


Valse Fantaisie

by ArwenLalaith



Series: In the Rose Bower [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/F, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLalaith/pseuds/ArwenLalaith
Summary: Sequel to Her Rose Adagio.  It's been a year since Clara was born and Emily can't imagine her life getting any better. The thing about life, though, is that it never stays the same for long.
Relationships: Emily Prentiss/Original Female Character(s)
Series: In the Rose Bower [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937848
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Emily lay in bed, trying to get a little extra sleep after the last case – she'd gotten in late the previous night, kissed Lucy, then turned off the baby monitor so she wouldn't wake her when she checked on Clara. The baby was sleeping through the night now, but had recently started cutting a tooth and usually woke up around three AM when her infant Tylenol wore off. Much as she hated seeing the baby in pain, she cherished those moments where it was just the two of them, snuggling together in the early morning hours.

In her half-wake/half-sleep state, Emily felt a little finger prod her cheek. Then, her closed eye. Finally, a little finger stuck itself up her nose.

Giving up on the idea of getting any more sleep, Emily opened her eyes to find Clara's little face peering down at her, barely an inch away. "Hello, Tiny Dancer," she greeted in a sleepy mumble. She yawned, wondering how it was possible someone who had been awake at three AM was already wide awake and getting into mischief.

There was stifled laughter from the doorway and she glanced up to find Lucy leaning against the door frame, smiling fondly as she watched them. "Sorry for the wake-up call," she murmured, approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. "She just wouldn't stop fussing until she saw her Mama..."

"Are you a Mama's girl?" Emily asked the baby.

Clara clapped her pudgy little hands together as if in reply. The smile she seemed to save just for Clara in place, Emily leaned in to kiss her, Clara meeting her lips for a drooly approximation of a kiss.

"She really missed you," Lucy answered for the baby. "Mommy couldn't do anything right the whole time you were gone..."

"Were you mean to your Mommy?" Emily addressed Clara.

"She kept spitting out the food I made, screamed all during bath time, and wouldn't go down for a nap."

Trying not to laugh, Emily turned to the baby and said seriously, "My goodness, you sure are getting a little attitude, aren't you, girly?"

"Perks of having a one year old, I guess," Lucy agreed.

Mussing Clara's hair, she said, "That's right, little one, you're a _year old_! Happy birthday!"

Clara squealed with glee, sensing their excitement, even if she didn't understand the words. Emily offered her palm and Clara eagerly patted her hand in return in a tiny little high-five.

"I'm so glad you made it home for her birthday," Lucy murmured, kissing the top of Clara's head. "I was so worried you wouldn't make it."

"There was no way I'd miss this," she vowed, "Even if I had to fly the jet home myself."

Leaning over Clara's head for a kiss, Lucy said, "Good. Now, get your beautiful butt out of bed because apparently I can't use a spoon good enough for a baby..."

* * *

"I just got off the phone with Garcia," Emily announced, entering the kitchen. (She'd had to leave the room to take the call because Clara seemed to find it hilarious to test her volume modulation – namely the _loud_ part whenever anyone was on the phone.)

Clara squealed with joy upon seeing her again, hammering her high chair tray with her spoon, spraying every nearby surface with oatmeal in the process. "Mamamamamama," she chattered.

"Yes, beautiful girl," Emily agreed, "Mamama loves you." She leaned down to drop a kiss to the top of Clara's head.

"What did Garcia want?" Lucy asked, following after with a dish cloth to wipe up the oatmeal.

"What do you think?"

"Let me guess...she's planned some kind of secret extravagant party for the munchkin?" she guessed because she knew Garcia well enough to expect such a thing.

Emily gave her a _well, duh_ look, then laughed. "Are you surprised? She seems to be under the impression that Clara hung the moon..."

With tender smiles, the both looked to Clara who had since abandoned her spoon and was jamming oatmeal into her mouth with her hands.

"Not even a little," Lucy confirmed, shaking her head at the messy baby.

When her gaze lingered on the baby, something unreadable in her eyes, Emily asked, "What about you?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, brow raised in question.

She reached for Lucy's hand, squeezing it gently. "It can't be easy to have to commemorate almost two years since Doyle..."

Lucy cut her off because even after all this time, she hated to hear the actual words. "I don't regret her," she interrupted.

"But...?" Emily prompted.

She shook her head. She didn't need to say anything; Emily understood her silence completely. Instead of words, Emily just wrapped her in a tender embrace.

Then, annoyed that no one was paying attention to her, Clara hollered, making her mothers laugh.

"Yes, birthday girl, we will pay attention to you now," Lucy assured her. "Everyone will pay lots of attention to you at your party." A momentary look of sadness washed across her face.

Emily didn't miss it, subtle as it was. She dropped a kiss on the top of Clara's now oatmeal-smeared head, then reached over top of her to stroke Lucy's cheek. "It's not too late to cancel – we can just have our simple little family day..."

They hadn't planned much in the way of a celebration – namely because they anticipated Garcia being, well, _Garcia_. They were simply going to spend the day as a family, enjoying the time they had with Clara that they both knew they could never get back.

Lucy shook her head. "People want to celebrate her, how can I say no to that?"

She couldn't argue with that, but she was still determined to have at least a few moments just as a family. Then, she noticed Lucy smirking. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You have oatmeal on your face..." she said with a giggle.

"So, it's cute on the baby, but not on me?" she asked, teasingly.

She shrugged. "That a problem?"

Swiping her fingers through the oatmeal covering Clara's high chair tray, Emily reached over to smear some across Lucy's cheek. She stuck her tongue out childishly.

"I'm going to get you for that..." Lucy threatened playfully.

"You'll have to catch me first..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello?" Lucy called out to the apparently empty house, having just returned from the store with more diapers. No response. She frowned, raised a brow. Silence didn't happen in a house with a one year old... "Hello?"

She moved through the house, unable to help the growing pit of concern in her stomach, given what her wife did for a living...

In the bedroom, she found a flowing white chiffon dress (one she'd never seen before) laid out on the bed with a note telling her to put it on and go to the backyard. Curious, she obeyed the note, wondering what kind of surprise Emily had cooked up. Though you wouldn't have expected it, Emily was surprisingly romantic when she wanted to be...

In the backyard, she found Emily waiting with Clara in her arms, both also dressed in white dresses – Clara's adorably tutu-like and Emily's form-fitting and elegant. "What's going on here?" Lucy asked, fond smile on her lips.

"Well..." Emily said, drawing out the syllable with a mischievous smile. "In honour of the Little Princess' birthday, I thought we should commemorate the occasion with some photographs. And, since we never had wedding pictures taken, I figured we could rectify that too."

"You didn't have to do all this," Lucy murmured, kissing first Clara's temple, then Emily's. She was blinking hard to keep her tears at bay, even if they were happy tears, lest she ruin her make up.

"This past year has gone by so fast," Emily replied. "And every time I stop to think that I'd like to hold on to a moment, it's gone so fast and all I have left is my memory. And I'm already missing out on so much while I'm at work... I just... I feel like we should take this opportunity to memorialize this moment. She'll never ever be this small again."

Lucy's smile was soft, sad, at that as she reached out to tenderly stroke a stray lock of hair behind Emily's ear. "You worry that one day she'll be taken from us..." she guessed easily.

She shook her head insistently. "I don't want to talk about that, not today."

Following her lead, Lucy turned to Clara and asked, "Are you going to smile pretty for the pictures?"

* * *

"I'm so glad it's your turn to do bath time," Lucy teased as she sat on the bathroom counter, watching Emily struggle to keep Clara from climbing out of the tub – soaking wet and still covered in icing from the cake smash photos – under the influence of too much sugar and stubbornness she'd obviously learned from watching her parents.

"You could be a little more helpful, you know..." Emily said, a splash of water hitting her in the face. In response, Lucy passed her a towel. Emily just rolled her eyes, but grinned nonetheless as she attempted to dry off one-handed.

"Do you ever think about doing this again?" Lucy asked, almost apropos of nothing.

"We're never giving her cake again," she answered, either misunderstanding the question or joking around.

Laughing softly, Lucy corrected, "I mean having another baby..."

"You are seeing _this_ , right?" Emily asked as she wrestled the wet baby in an attempt to shampoo the cake out of her hair.

She smiled fondly, nodded. "I love everything about this moment – I love watching the woman I married care for the stubborn little rascal we brought into the world. Don't you want to have another baby to love this much?"

She wasn't going to lie, she had thought about having another baby a lot, but had been reluctant to bring it up for fear of pressuring Lucy after the last time she'd accidentally brought it up. But she could think of few things that would make her happier than growing their family. Together.

"Do you really feel ready?" she asked, in lieu of a more emphatic response.

Lucy nodded. "I think so – I know it might be difficult and triggering, but it is so _so_ worth it when I look in Clara's eyes and think about doing this all over again."

"I think we should definitely discuss it...when I'm not soaked and wrestling a naked baby," she joked.

* * *

Emily flopped back on the couch, thoroughly exhausted. From outside, the chaos of little voices playing carried into Rossi's parlour. Beside her, Derek chuckled. "Feeling your age?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes, fixed him with an unimpressed stare which only made him laugh harder. "I thought you were 'fun Uncle Derek' – why aren't you out there playing with the kids?" she asked, having just barely escaped with her life...she'd taken down literal unsubs that gave up easier than the combined efforts of Jack, Henry, and Clara.

"Because I _was_ fun, but then I needed a drink before I could be fun again..." he said, holding up his bottle of beer in silent emphasis.

"At least _you_ get to go home at the end of the night," she countered, "And don't have to put a sugared up kid to bed..."

He snorted with laughter. "Not winning me over to the 'have kids right away' team. I think I'll stick to practicing." He winked, took a sip of beer to hide his smirk.

"So jealous," she muttered to herself.

He raised a brow. "Someone in need of a little lovin'?" he teased, elbowing her playfully in the ribs.

She scoffed, punching him in the arm. "Don't be an ass."

"What?" he asked, holding up his hands in self-defence. "Just an innocent question..."

"'Innocent'?" she repeated. "Hardly." At his continued inquisitive expression, she sighed, relented, "As much as I love Clara, it is _so_ hard to find the time to go out on a date. It's been over two years since we've had a real proper date and..." She trailed off, shrugging.

"Two years?" he repeated incredulously.

She gave him a pointed look. "Obviously, we've done other _things_ since then..."

He smirked, waggled his brows.

"I mean, it's not the same with a baby in the next room, but..." Her eyes went wide as she realized she'd said way too much.


	3. Chapter 3

"How can someone so little eat _so_ much?" Emily wondered aloud, barely able to spoon tomato soup into Clara's mouth fast enough for the baby's demands. "She's like a bottomless pit..."

Lucy laughed as she cut a grilled cheese sandwich into bite-sized pieces. "I've seen _you_ eat after a case," she replied, "She must come by it naturally."

" _Me_?" she retorted. "What about _you_ after a full night of dancing?"

She couldn't exactly argue with that. Shaking her head and smiling softly, she nodded to the baby. "Better keep feeding the beast before she bites your hand off..."

There was a knock on the door before Emily could retort. She looked up, spoon halfway to Clara's mouth, brow raised. "Are you expecting someone?" she asked Lucy.

Clara, objecting strongly to the sudden pause in feeding, banged her little hands on the high chair tray and shrieked an ear-splitting sound.

"Excuse me, Missy!" Emily said with a laugh as she resumed feeding her.

Lucy frowned, washed her hands, set the cut up grilled cheese on Clara's tray, then went to answer the door. Throwing the door open, she was surprised and rather confused to find Derek standing there, looking awfully pleased with himself. "What are you doing here?" she asked, perhaps a touch rudely.

He laughed. "Nice to see you too, Princess. Can I come in?"

She quirked a brow. "I guess..." She stood back to let him in, still unsure why he was there.

"Who is it?" Emily called from the kitchen. Clara echoed the sentiment with an indistinct holler. Lucy lead Derek into the kitchen where Emily was watching Clara cram the sandwich pieces into her mouth. "Derek?" Emily said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked instead of answering the question, still wearing that goofy grin.

The two women shared a curious look, unsure of what exactly he was up to. "No..." Lucy answered slowly. "Why?"

"Good. Because there's a reservation for two at Mirabelle in an hour. Go get ready."

"What?" Emily stammered, incredulous at the peculiar order.

Derek shooed them out of the kitchen. "You said you couldn't find time to have a date, so I made the time."

"But what about Clara?" Lucy asked, confused and perhaps a little reluctant to leave the baby alone after not being apart from her for so long. She glanced from Emily to Derek, wondering exactly how this turn of events had come about and whether she was in the mood to play along.

He grinned, all too proud of himself. "One babysitter at your service."

Emily laughed a little. "You're good, Morgan, but are you good enough to handle _that_?" She gestured to Clara who was finger painting with her tomato soup (and more than half of it was ending up in her hair). "She'll need a bath and a bottle and she's been really clingy lately and..."

"I think I'm more than capable of..." he interrupted to protest.

Lucy didn't let him finish. " _Shhh_ , Emily! He's offering us a night _alone_ – for God's sake, take it!" She gave her wife a pointed look, which only made Emily laugh and hold up her hands in surrender.

* * *

"So, how long do we have our sitter?" Lucy asked in a whisper as the two of them slow danced, tendrils of soft music spilling out across the dance floor. "Part of me never wants this moment to end..." She said it so softly, so reverently, it was almost as if she were afraid of shattering the rare moment of peace.

She pulled back slightly from where her chin rested on Emily's shoulder to smile up at her wife, finding it hard to believe she could love someone so much, that her heart could feel so full. She leaned in to steal a kiss that Emily readily gave.

"I know," she agreed once they broke apart. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have you all to myself." Her thumb traced circles on Lucy's hip, the spot that never failed to send shivers down her spine. It was their silent signal telling the other _exactly_ what they wanted to do once they were alone...

Lucy bit down on her lip with fake coyness, trying to keep a moan from spilling forth at the promise of mischief. It had been _far_ too long since they'd been able to do this; not just have time alone, but to share the subtle silent intimacy that it had taken them so long to rebuild after everything that had happened in the past two years.

Emily sighed, a touch sadly then, kissed Lucy's temple. "I don't know how much longer Derek can handle Clara, but we should probably be heading home soon," she said in apology. Much as she trusted Derek, Clara could be a real handful, particularly for anyone she deemed unfavourable. Which, lately, was everyone except Emily.

Lucy pouted, the burn of Emily's thumb still on her hip. Now that she'd gotten over her separation anxiety and left Clara alone, she was determined not to squander the moment. "What if..." she whispered with a wicked grin, "We just stayed out a little longer?"

Emily raised a brow at Lucy's sudden rebellious streak, unable to keep herself from grinning because even after all this time, her wife could still surprise her. "How late are we talking?" she bargained.

She pretended to think for a moment, managing only momentary thoughtfulness before her face split in a sinful grin. "Like getting a hotel room late?" She waggled her brows for emphasis.

Emily laughed. "Mrs. Prentiss, how very _mischievous_ of you..." She reserved the moniker 'Mrs. Prentiss' for when Lucy was particularly playful. (Like the occasional submissive playtime...)

"Please?" she begged. "Clara's already asleep, there's bottles of breastmilk in the fridge, we can be home before she wakes up..."

For a few moments, she thought on the matter. "Fine," she relented. "I'll get a hotel room with my wife."

Lucy's face lit up in a grin. "Let's get out of here," she whispered, tugging her towards the exit.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy rested back against Emily's chest, the water of the hotel room's hot tub lapping at the underside of her breasts. Emily rested her chin on Lucy's shoulder, her fingers massaging Lucy's clit beneath the water.

In the next room, Clara slept peacefully in her cot – finally old enough that they didn't need to worry about her interrupting. (And Emily thanked every God she could think for that because there had been far too many times they'd been in the middle of something, only to have Clara wake up and ruin the mood.)

Lucy came with a cry muffled by her hand clapped over her mouth (because, while unlikely to wake up on her own, Clara had ears like a hawk and hotel room walls were thin...). Emily pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder. "You're so sexy..." she murmured. "I'll _never_ get tired of doing that."

She giggled, turned so she could properly kiss her wife. "You might not be tired, but you've worn me out..." she husked, a satisfied smile on her lips, her cheeks flushed and dewy.

Emily smirked, all too proud of herself...even after all the years they'd been together, it still thrilled her that she got to have her like this. As Lucy settled back against her chest, Emily twined their fingers, kissed the back of Lucy's hand. "So, how do you like London?" she asked.

"If you keep doing _that_ , I'll never want to leave," she joked. "But to be fair, I'd like it anywhere so long as you and Clara are with me."

Emily hummed a note of agreement, sighed contentedly, her warm breath tickling the skin on the back of Lucy's neck.

"So, why the extravagant Christmas gift?" Lucy asked at length, curious. Not that she wasn't extremely grateful, she just couldn't quite figure out the motivations behind the spur of the moment vacation.

"I just wanted to spoil my family," she replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "I've always loved London and I wanted to share that with you."

" _And_?" Lucy prompted.

Emily sighed softly. "And I was thinking it might be nice to move here someday..."

"Move here?" Lucy repeated dumbly.

"We don't have to," Emily instantly assured. "It was just a thought. I know how much you've always wanted to dance with the Royal Ballet," she added.

Lucy chewed at her lip in thought. "What about you? What would you do for work?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I'd stay at home with Clara. I've never not been involved with law enforcement, maybe it would be a nice change."

A long silence followed. "Does London have good IVF clinics?" Lucy asked, grinning to herself.

Another long silence, this one decidedly stunned. "Are... Are you saying...?" she stammered.

"I want to have another baby," she confirmed.

"Are you sure?" Emily asked, trying not to grin too widely.

She nodded eagerly. "It's kind of my Christmas present to you – I figured if I had to be pregnant for nine months, you'd forgive me for not getting you an actual gift..."

"God, I love you so much," Emily vowed. "In fact..." she started, trailed off as her hand came up to cup Lucy's breast, thumb teasing her nipple.

"Em, you don't have to..." she protested, "You've already done more than enough and..." Her grin turned mischievous. "Besides, it's your turn."

She turned, straddled her lap, and affixed her lips to her neck as she ground against her hips.

Emily started to protest, but the words got caught in her throat as Lucy's fingers entered her.

* * *

Clara stood on the little seating bench inside their pod of the London Eye, her palms pressed against the glass as she watched the skyline pass by below them.

"Look, baby girl!" Emily cooed. She pointed to the Royal Opera House. "That's where Mama is going to dance!"

Lucy smiled softly. "We don't know that for sure – I'd have to audition..."

Emily grinned at her over her shoulder. "Mama's just being modest. She's a shoo-in. They'd be lucky to have her."

Lucy leaned in for a kiss. "Maybe Clara will dance her first steps on the Opera House stage..." She paused then. "Or catch her first bad guy at Scotland Yard."

"Nope," Emily said immediately. "No way. She's not allowed to be a cop."

Lucy raised a brow. "Why can't she follow in Mommy's footsteps?"

Emily fixed her with a pointed look like the answer should be obvious. "Because I'm not going to lose another thing I love to that life."

Lucy didn't press the matter and neither did Emily. Clara, however, had decided to press her face against the glass, her little tongue slobbering all over the surface.

"Oh, Clara, that's yucky!" Lucy cried out, picking her up. Clara squealed in protest.

Laughing, Emily reached into the diaper bag and offered the baby a sippy cup of water. "You, missy, are gross." With a smile, she turned back to Lucy and teased, "Are you sure you want to do _this_ again?"

"More sure than ever."

"And what about you, Clara?" she asked. "Want to be a big sister?"

Clara was too busy guzzling the water to answer, even if she could've responded.

"You're so lucky," Lucy informed the baby. "You're going to have a little brother or sister. You'll have a best friend for life."

Emily looked at her skeptically. "Babe, you're an only child..."

She shrugged. "I know. But I always imagined having a sibling would be the best, you know?"

She nodded. She knew. "But you know she's already the luckiest child in the world, right?"

"And why is that?" Lucy asked.

"Because she has you. And you're the best mother anyone could possibly want. I see the way you are with her and it makes me fall in love with you even more. It makes me want a whole litter of kids with you because I want to spend the rest of my life watching you be a mom."

"She may be the luckiest little girl in the world, but I'm even luckier..." Lucy insisted.

Emily quirked a brow. "And why is that?"

"I'm married to you."


	5. Chapter 5

"You're crazy," Emily declared, watching as Lucy smoothed her long hair back into a messy ponytail.

"It's just a workout," Lucy replied without looking back at her.

"I've worked out with Morgan before," Emily argued. "It's not 'just' a workout with him...it's cruel and unusual punishment."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I was a professional athlete – I'm sure I can handle whatever he can dish out," she insisted.

"Don't say I didn't warn you..."

* * *

"I'm home!" Lucy called out to the house at large as she shut the door behind her and sliding off her running shoes. She pulled off her T-shirt, soaked with sweat because (though she'd never admit it to Emily) Derek had worked her within an inch of her life.

The house was uncharacteristically silent, but eager as she was to hop in the shower, she decided to investigate later. It wasn't until she was washing her hair when she realized she hadn't heard any of the usual chaos that went along with having a one year old.

Before she could call out for Emily to ask, though, the shower curtain shifted, letting in a burst of cool air, sending goosebumps erupting along her skin. A warm body slipped into the shower behind her, hands coming to rest on her hips to steady her as she jumped.

"Jesus Christ, Em, you scared the hell out of me!" Lucy scolded.

Emily grinned wickedly, hands never leaving her hips. "Well, then allow me to make it up to you..." she husked. She gently backed Lucy up until her shoulders hit the tile of the shower wall, her lips finding Lucy's throat and latching on to the soft skin.

"What are you doing?" Lucy murmured, head tilting back to grant her better access.

"Clara is at Garcia's house..." she said by way of answering. She raked her teeth across Lucy's collarbone, not quite hard enough to leave a mark, but making her shudder all the same.

Lucy raised a brow as best she could while being distracted so. "And...?"

Emily slid her fingers along Lucy's arms and laced their fingers together, almost sweetly. She caught Lucy's eyes, smiled softly, before smirking again as she pinned Lucy's hands against the wall beside her head. Before Lucy could react to her sudden helplessness, Emily's hips were bumping up against hers.

"I'll give you a workout..." she husked in Lucy's ear. "I'm going to fuck you _so_ hard – you're going to scream my name over and over and _over_ as I make you cum so hard you forget your own fucking name."

"Emily..." Lucy started to protest, but there was no real power behind it as Emily released one of her hands so that she could knead her breast, thumb brushing her nipple.

"Yes?" Emily teased. "Something you need?" She parted Lucy's legs with one of her own.

Lucy whimpered a little, grinding down against Emily's leg in search of the friction she needed, "Emily..." she whined softly, more insistent.

Emily's smirk was nearly audible in her voice. "Use your words, Lucy..." she taunted.

"Emily," she repeated a third time. Her expression fell into soft apology as she whispered, "Please... I'm so tired..."

She could almost feel the disappointment wash over her wife, face falling. "But..." she started to protest weakly, trying not to beg, but unable to quite help the pleading tone in her voice because she had gotten herself all worked up for nothing. "Just a quick one?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, apologetic. "I just don't think I've got the energy tonight."

* * *

"Hello?" Morgan answered the phone in a sleepy mumble, his voice muffled by the fact that his face was pressed into his pillow. The silent _please God don't let it be a case_ prayer was practically audible in his voice.

"I've got a bone to pick with you," Emily said by way of answer, annoyance clear in her tone. It was after midnight and she'd deliberately waited until then to call him out of a desire to piss him off in retribution which, while perhaps childish, seemed only fair.

He yawned. "What did I do?" he asked, words slurring together.

"You _ruined_ my big romantic evening," she accused.

Apparently suddenly wide awake at the implication behind those words, he repeated, "Romantic evening?" The smirk on his face was obvious even over the phone. "Do tell," he solicited. "I want all the details..."

She scoffed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Morgan."

"You started it," he said petulantly.

"Besides, even if there _were_ details to share, I certainly wouldn't be telling _you_ ," she grumbled, sounding very much like a child.

"What exactly is the problem?" Derek asked, trying to get to the root of the conversation so he could get back to sleep.

"The problem," she said pointedly, "Is that Lucy hasn't worked out since Clara was born and today she jumps in with both feet and you worked her half to death..."

"So?"

She rolled her eyes. " _So_...she was too exhausted for...other things," she finished lamely. "Things I had to get a babysitter for."

He cackled. "You're calling me because you're sexually frustrated?" he asked. "Because I gotta say...if you don't know how to solve that problem yourself, there's a few things I could teach you."

She was silent for a few moments, her irritation crackling over the line. "You're a pig," she said flatly.

"Hey, you're the one who called me to talk about your sex life..."

" _No_ ," she corrected, "I called to tell you that next time my wife asks to workout with you, you don't work her like a dog."

"A dog, huh?" he repeated, once again waggling his brows.

She gave an aggravated sigh. "I hate you, you know?"

"You do not, you love me."

She huffed at his cockiness. "Believe me, what I feel for you right now is _not_ love."

He laughed again. "Boy you sure get cranky when you're horny," he teased. And, before she could verbally rend him limb from limb as she so obviously wanted to, he hung up on her, leaving her silently fuming with no one to receive the brunt of her anger.


	6. Chapter 6

Emily walked through the door with Regina Lampert's words still ringing in her ears. 'Her monster was dead...' she'd said. But how can someone be dead when their eyes looked back at you every single day?

(She tried not to make it a habit to think of Clara's eyes as being Ian's, but that didn't mean her traitorous mind didn't remind her on occasion...)

Regina may have been right: Ian Doyle _was_ dead, but that didn't mean she ever had the luxury of forgetting.

As she pulled off her boots and dropped her go-bag by the door, she heard the familiar strains of the Nutcracker score spilling into the foyer. Her heart sank a little at the sound; sometimes, on bad days, Lucy would watch tapes of herself dancing... Emily wondered if she remembered what day it was.

Instead, though, she came into the living room to find a very unusual scene: Lucy was dressed in her usual leotard and tights, wispy dance skirt wrapped around her hips, though with one distinct difference...the baby strapped to her chest.

For a moment, Emily said nothing, merely standing in the doorway to watch (admittedly with some confusion as to what exactly it was Lucy was doing).

"Put your hands up, Clara!" Lucy encouraged the baby, lifting her own arms into fifth position. "And now we pirouette...but I'll go slow so you don't throw up all over Mama 'cause that would be yucky. Yes, it would."

She turned a slow pirouette en pointe, then lowered back down to fifth.

"Starting her a little young, aren't we?" Emily finally spoke after watching her coaching the baby through the short section of choreography.

Lucy whipped around, cheeks pinking as she saw her wife standing there, watching. "She made me..."

Emily raised a brow. "She _made_ you?" she repeated. She stepped out of the threshold and approached so she could stroke Clara's soft chubby cheek. "Were you blackmailing Mama again?" she asked the child.

"Well, she asked nicely..."

Emily shook her head, laughing. "Do tell."

"We were watching Angelina Ballerina," she explained.

She raised a brow. "The one with the dancing rat?"

"I think it's a mouse," Lucy corrected. "Anyway, we were watching it and Clara kept pointing and saying 'Peas?', so I taught her a few steps.

Emily's smile was soft and oh so fond. "Can I see?"

Lucy glanced down at Clara who was nodding off. "Sorry, one time only performance," she said with a shrug.

"Little sleepyhead," Emily said with a shake of her head as she carefully lifted Clara out of the carrier. She settled her against her shoulder, swaying gently and stroking her back.

Lucy watched her expression morph into something sad. "Do you want to tell me what's on your mind?"

She shook her head, sniffled.

"Em..." Lucy whispered, tucked a stray lock of hair behind Emily's ear. "Please, let me in."

Raking her teeth across her lip, Emily let out a shaky breath. "A year and a half..." she choked out.

Lucy raised a brow, mentally counting back. "Since I showed up pregnant and changed everything," she finished.

"No, Lucy, that's not what I meant," Emily hurriedly insisted.

"But it's true," Lucy pressed. "That's how long it's been. And it's okay: you're allowed to have a hard time with this."

Emily rounded on her. "It's been a _year and a half_ , Lucy! How are you not more upset? How can you be so _okay_ with the fact that a year and a half ago, you literally had to kill a man to escape his dungeon?"

For a moment, something unreadable flashed behind her eyes, but only briefly before she shrugged. "Because I'm choosing not to," she replied as if it really were as simple as that.

"You're just _choosing_ it?" she said skeptically.

"Mm-hmm."

Emily narrowed her eyes, studying her, then shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"It's for her, okay?" Lucy snapped, gesturing at the sleepy baby in Emily's arms.

Clara started squalling slightly at the raised voices and Emily shot Lucy a glare as she tried to soothe the baby back to sleep.

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a whisper once Clara started to settle again.

"I will never _ever_ let Clara feel like a consolation prize!" she vowed. "Because one day she is going to grow up and read the papers. One day she is going to do the math and realize that she is the product of rape. One day, she is going to know that I didn't have a choice to have her. And so long as I draw breath, she will know what while I may not have had the choice, I _always_ wanted her!"

"I wanted her too, Lucy," Emily said gently. "But that doesn't change the fact that you _were_ a hostage and you were raped and you weren't given a choice to get pregnant." She rocked Clara, a little desperately. "I love Clara, but truthfully, at first, I didn't want her. Not like this."

Lucy nodded, sinking her teeth into her lip, tears in her eyes. She seemed to take those words to mean that she hadn't wanted _her_ either...

"A year and a half ago, I was so afraid for you. Every single day. I didn't know if you were alive or dead and no matter how much time went by, I refused to give up, even knowing the statistics... And then suddenly you were back and everything was supposed to be okay, but it _wasn't_. Because the woman I love had just endured hell and I knew it wasn't going to get any easier.

"I love you even more now, but watching you like this – just acting like everything is okay – it scares the hell out of me too because I've seen how that turns out. Because that's what I've done all my life."

Lucy attempted a smile, albeit a watery one. "I'm okay, Em. Really."

Emily looked at her sadly. "Are you?"

"I've got her..." she said in answer, as if it explained everything.


	7. Chapter 7

"You have to..." Emily wheedled. "Please?"

Lucy cocked her head to the side, studying her wife. "I don't want to go," she insisted.

"We're all going," Emily pressed. "It's girls' night."

Passing Clara a wooden block for the 'tower' she was building, Lucy smiled down at the child, then looked to her wife. "And who would watch Clara?"

"Reid."

Lucy's brows leapt up her forehead. "Reid?" she repeated skeptically. "He holds her like she's a bomb about to go off..."

Emily begged, "He's already watching Henry and she'll be in bed already..."

Lucy chewed her lip. "But what if she wakes up? What if she gets sick or hurt or..."

"Reid is completely capable of handling her," Emily insisted. "And you deserve to have a night off. We both do."

"But... I don't want to leave her," she mumbled childishly.

"She'll be fine," Emily said gently. "It's good for her to spend time away from us, so she can learn independence. And Reid, while lacking in social graces, is completely capable. I trust him completely."

Lucy pouted, but eventually nodded.

Emily's face lit up in a smile. "So, you'll come?"

She nodded again.

Emily bent down to kiss her. "You know how much fun I have when some dude hits on you and I get to tell him I've got dibs."

She rolled her eyes. "Dibs?" she repeated dubiously.

"The wedding ring gives me permanent dibs," she insisted with an impish smirk.

* * *

"Shots!" Garcia announced, settling four shot glasses on the table in front of them.

Lucy raised a brow, looking at the liquid placed in front of her. "It's green," she said, nose wrinkling. She'd never really been one for shots or cocktails of unnatural green liquids...on the rare occasion when she did drink, it was usually something simple like wine or rum and coke.

"The Green Fairy," Garcia declared proudly. "Drink up!" When she still seemed dubious, she described, "It's peach Schnapps, absinthe, and melon liqueur."

She hummed a note of distaste. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm still breastfeeding."

"Pump and dump," JJ said, "And have some fun." She tossed back the shot, then pulled a face at the sting, before throwing her head back and whooping.

Emily winked at Lucy, then clinked her shot glass against the one Lucy was holding with skepticism.

* * *

Emily leaned heavily on Lucy as they clumsily swayed on the spot (in spite of the loud, pounding music). "I _love_ you..." Emily sing-songed by her ear, drunken smile floating practically an inch off her face.

"You're wasted," Lucy said with a giggle. She loved drunk Emily because drunk Emily was softer than sober Emily, more openly affectionate, and so much more amusing...

"No, you are," she retorted.

Lucy rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. "I think maybe it's time to call it a night..."

Emily pulled back so she could fix her with a clumsy attempt at bedroom eyes. "Or...we could go to the bathroom and..." She waggled her brows.

"We're not having sex in the bathroom," Lucy scolded. "In fact, I think I'm going to head home."

"Aww," Emily whined. "Why?"

Lucy cocked her head, offered a consoling smile. She patted Emily's cheek. "I'm feeling a little iffy – I'm not sure those Green Fairies agreed with me."

Instantly, her attention was diverted. "Where's Garcia? I need another drink!"

Lucy chuckled. "Maybe we should get you a coffee instead."

* * *

Reid answered the door looking decidedly harried. "Oh, hey, Lucy, umm... Hey!" He deliberately used his body to attempt to block her view into the house...which, if anything, was _more_ suspicious.

Lucy raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder at the absolute chaos within. "Did a tornado come through here?"

He gave a nervous little laugh, but didn't answer.

He didn't have to, though, because at that moment Henry appeared at his side. "Hi, Aunty Wulu!" he greeted. His usually neat appearance was rather disheveled in a chaotic sort of way - hair standing straight up like he'd been electrified, marker halfway up his arms, and some sort of food stains spattering his shirt.

"Hi, Henry. Why are are you still awake? It's past your bedtime..." Lucy asked, kneeling down to his level.

He grinned widely and held up a can proudly.

Lucy's brows leapt up her forehead and she shot Reid a look of pure alarm. "Jesus, Reid! That's nitro cold brew coffee! What were you thinking?"

He winced. "I thought it was Diet Coke – I didn't read it, I just grabbed the can..." he mumbled.

"It's a good thing JJ is absolutely _shit-faced_ right now," she informed him, "Because she's going to murder you as soon as she's capable of standing without the room spinning."

"She is, isn't she?"

"Have you seen the state of this living room?" she retorted. Something occurred to her then. "Please tell me you didn't accidentally caffeinate my baby..." Her expression made it _very_ clear that that was a threat.

He shook his head. "I, umm, I may have narrowly saved her from an impromptu haircut, though..." he admitted, wincing like he anticipated her taking a swing at him.

"What?"

He winced again. "Don't worry, I intervened..."

There was a crash from the next room and a holler of, "Whoops!"

"You should probably go deal with that..."

"Please don't leave me alone with him," Reid begged. "He drank that coffee four hours ago and he hasn't stopped creating chaos since!"

Lucy gave him a pointed stare.

"I'm begging you," he pleaded, "JJ is never going to trust me with anything ever again! I caffeinated her child and destroyed her house and almost let him concuss your baby and..."

" _What_!?"

He held up his hands in self-defence, but side-stepped the issue. "Help me, please!"


	8. Chapter 8

Lucy wrestled Clara into the coffee shop's high chair. Clara was in no mood to be in a high chair, though, and fiercely battled the restraints. (Not to mention, she hollered at the top of her lungs to make her displeasure known.)

Lucy groaned at the histrionics. "You're riding the fuss bus today, missy..." she informed the baby with a shake of her head. In an attempt to placate her, she offered the baby a sippy cup and a handful of Cheerios.

Clara, however, was not having it. She batted the Cheerios off the tray, sending the cereal flying across the room.

"Fine," Lucy said, meeting the child's sassy little stare. "You don't get any more, though."

At that moment, Lucy's friend came bounding over with a squeal of glee. Lucy leapt up, wrapped her friend in an embrace with a cry of, "Tally!"

Tally had been her best friend at the Company for years. They'd both started as apprentices at the same time and had become fast friends, bonding over the long hours, the exhaustion, the injuries... But when Lucy had returned from her kidnapping ordeal, she hadn't been able to reach out for fear of being judged, of being shunned. Tally was one of the only friends she had and she was deathly afraid of losing her. This was the first time they'd spoken in nearly two years...

Tally extended Lucy to arm's length to get a better look at her. "You look _amazing_!" she declared firmly. "Being a mom agrees with you..."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Motherhood may, but the little stinker clearly doesn't," she muttered, gesturing to Clara who was beating a rhythm of discontent on her high chair tray with her sippy cup (and sending water splashing out the spout in the process).

Tally, at least, seemed to find her antics amusing, judging by her laughter.

"So, tell me everything that's going on at the Company!" Lucy demanded, eager for news from the world she'd been forced to step away from.

Tally shrugged. "Wouldn't know."

"What?"

"Don't know," she repeated. "I haven't been with the Company for six months."

Lucy's brows leapt up her forehead. "Six months? Why? What happened?"

"Tore my ACL," she said, sighed sadly. "I've been in physio for months, but they say I may never dance again..."

"Tally, I'm so sorry," Lucy whispered. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know – ballet is all I've ever known," she said softly, "I don't know how you've survived so long outside the theatre."

A confused expression crossed Lucy's face. "You make it sound like it's a vacation," she said pointedly.

Tally held up her hands in self-defence. "I just meant that obviously you must like it or you wouldn't be wasting your short-lived career at home."

"Wasting?" she echoed incredulously. "I spend the last two years being held hostage, pregnant, and then raising my daughter – I wouldn't call that _wasting_."

"So, when are you coming back?" Tally asked.

Lucy chewed her lip. "I don't know – it's not just up to me..."

"All I know is that I'd give anything to get back to dancing..."

* * *

"You would not _believe_ the nerve of this girl," Lucy ranted. "She made it seem like I was choosing not to come back!"

"Who cares?" Emily asked.

"What?"

Emily turned, cupped Lucy's cheek. "Why do you care what she thinks?"

For a moment, she leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Then, she glanced back up, gaze pointed. " _Because_...if she thinks that then the whole Company probably does too. They think I _want_ to be not dancing."

She raised a brow. "Don't you?"

Lucy heaved a sigh. "Of course, I _want_ to be here – with you, with Clara – but I also want to be dancing."

There was a long pause. Then, Emily grabbed her hand, tugging Lucy to sit on the bed next to her. "If you get pregnant again, that's another year you won't be dancing..." she said slowly. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Lucy cocked her head to the side, a look of confusion and perhaps sadness crossing her face. "Do... Do you not want another baby? Is it me?"

"No, Lucy," Emily vowed, squeezing her hand tighter. "That's not what I'm trying to say. You know I want a family with you. But I also don't want you to have to sacrifice any more than you already have – I know ballet careers are notoriously short."

She shrugged. "It's just ballet, though..."

Emily's brows leapt up her forehead in surprise and confusion. " _Just_ ballet?" she repeated. "Since when have you ever considered it _just_ ballet? Ballet is your life."

"You're my life," Lucy replied.

Emily's smile was soft, tender. She brushed a hand along Lucy's cheek, pulled her in for a kiss. "I'm just saying that we have other options."

She raised a brow in a silent gesture for her to continue.

"I know my chances aren't as good, but I could try," Emily suggested. "Or we could adopt. I know it's not quite the same, but..."

Lucy shook her head. "No one would give us a baby – between your job and my obvious major psychological trauma... Not to mention the still rampant homophobia."

Emily chewed her lip in thought. "We could hire a surrogate," she suggested.

Lucy didn't seem convinced, though.

Emily sighed softly. "We don't have to do any of this. I don't need another baby. I know I've mentioned it a lot, but I've got you and Clara and if another child comes at the price of either of your well-being, I don't want to pay that price."

"But..."

She shook her head. "One perfect daughter is enough for me."

Lucy seemed torn between rolling her eyes and a watery smile. "Your perfect daughter is working on taking off her diaper..." she pointed out.

Emily snorted with laughter. "She gets that from you..." she said, moving to stop Clara before she could get the tabs undone.

"Are you kidding?" Lucy retorted. "You're the expert on taking off clothes – I'm surprised you haven't undone my bra while we've been sitting here."

She flashed a faux coy smile. "Believe me, if little ears weren't listening..."

Lucy shook her head, groaning. "Well, it _is_ almost nap time."


	9. Chapter 9

"It's kind of weird..." Lucy said, almost apropos of nothing as she stared at the anatomical poster of a sagittal section of the female pelvic structure.

Emily raised a brow as she looked at Lucy in anticipation of an explanation. "What's weird?" she asked, prompting her.

Lucy glanced over at her, offered a faint smile. "It was almost three years ago that we sat in this office, waiting to find out if we were good candidates for IUI..."

"Is it only three?" she asked, "It feels like a decade..."

She laughed. "That's because we have a one year old," she pointed out. Clara was now walking on her own and, as such, was getting into _everything_. There was no such thing as peace and quiet in their house anymore. (In fact, just that morning, she'd gotten into the drawer below the change table and pulled out every single diaper, leaving a wake of chaos.)

"I don't understand how one year can feel both so long and so short at once..." Emily mused.

Lucy nodded her agreement.

"But then, a second baby will make it go twice as fast," she added. "And twice as slow."

Their conversation was interrupted by the doctor bustling into the little exam room, door slamming shut behind him. "Hello, I'm Dr. Katz," he introduced himself, pulling on a pair of exam gloves without bothering to meet either of their gazes.

"We've been seeing Dr. Mitchell," Emily pointed out, "Where is she?"

"Dr. Mitchell is attending a birth," he informed them pointedly. "We share the practice."

A quick glance at Lucy told Emily everything she needed to know about her emotional state just then – all the blood had left her face and her eyes were wide and stricken. She'd supported enough victims of trauma to know what was going on inside her head.

"I really think Lucy would be more comfortable seeing Dr. Mitchell," Emily said flatly. She reached over and untangled Lucy's hand from where it was tightly gripping the exam gown she wore, lacing their fingers together instead.

Dr. Katz stared over the rims of his glasses at Emily, obviously displeased. "And who are you?" he asked, not entirely politely.

"I'm her _wife_ ," she retorted.

" _Oh_..."

It was an ' _Oh_ ' that Emily was all too familiar with. One that said ' _I can't say aloud what I really think, but rest assured it's nothing polite_ '. She'd been receiving that ' _Oh_ ' since she first came out to her mother at the age of thirteen.

She mashed her lips together to keep a few choice words from escaping, well aware that Lucy really couldn't handle an argument in that moment...even if she very much would have liked to verbally eviscerate the doctor.

Either not noticing or not caring, Dr. Katz flipped through Lucy's file cursorily. "You're here to see if you're a good candidate for IUI?" he asked.

Lucy nodded, swallowed thickly, still white as a sheet.

"And you already had one child using IUI?"

"Technically..." Emily started to correct, getting irritated that he was asking questions that were obviously making Lucy uncomfortable, especially given that they should already have been in the file.

She didn't get the chance to finish the thought, though, before he interrupted, "Well, if you ask me, you should consider yourself lucky."

Emily's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"It's a miracle you had a baby in the first place," he continued, "Maybe you should be content with that instead of wasting your money on trying to have another." And, before Emily could explode with anger, he said to Lucy, "Lie back and put your feet in the stirrups."

Lucy looked like she might throw up.

* * *

Lucy lay on the floor, balancing Clara on extended arms, holding her up in the air. Clara squealed with delight, waving her arms about excitedly.

"If you're not careful, she's going to throw up on you," Emily informed her matter-of-factly as she moved past with a laundry basket.

Instead of an answer, though, a sniffle...

Emily stopped in her tracks, turned around to face her wife with a look of concern. "Lucy, what's wrong?" she asked, incredulous.

The only response she got was a strangled sob.

She set down the laundry basket to lay down beside her, studying Lucy's tear-streaked face, but not saying anything in the hopes that she'd open up without her prying. Instead, she reached up to tickle Clara's chin, making her giggle. The child's smile – the way her eyes lit up, the quirk of her pink rosebud lips – it was all Lucy. "She looks more like you everyday," Emily murmured.

Another sob.

"Lucy, please tell me what's upsetting you," she begged.

"He was right," she whispered, the words like thorns falling from her lips.

Emily raised a brow – she'd never heard Lucy sound quite so defeated, certainly not in the face of some jerk's bigoted opinion. "That..." She covered Clara's ears. "...asshole Dr. Katz? He should have his license revoked, he's a fucking prick."

"But he's right," she insisted. "Second chances just don't happen."

"Says who?"

She scoffed. "Says everyone."

Immediately, Emily insisted, "Fuck that. I don't for a single second believe that just because we have Clara, we can never have another baby. That it's a one shot, one time deal. I'm willing to spend the money to grow our family because you told me that's what you wanted. Because it's what _I_ want. A family."

"But...what if..."

"No what if's," she said firmly. "We'll do whatever it takes for as long as it makes sense to try. _And_ we're filing a complaint against that doctor. He had no right to make you feel like this because he's too closed-minded to accept our family."

Lucy stared pensively up at Clara.

"Tell her, Clara," Emily told the baby, "Say 'I wanna be a big sissy'."

Clara's response was to blow a bubble of spittle and squeal some nonsense syllables.

Lucy gave a wet little laugh, set Clara down on Emily's chest, rolled over to kiss her wife. "You're convincing when you want to be."

"I know. How do you think I got you to marry me?"


	10. Chapter 10

Emily shut the door behind her, peeling off her FBI windbreaker and pulling her hair out of its elastic, shaking out some of the dust from the explosion. "Lucy?" she called out. All she'd been thinking about since she'd come stumbling out of the wreckage of the explosion was how badly she wanted to hold her wife and daughter and never let them go...

Lucy came downstairs, face expressionless. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she didn't look nearly as excited to see her alive as she might've hoped.

In spite of that, though, Emily sighed with relief as she wrapped her wife in an embrace she didn't return. "Where's Clara?" she whispered. "I really need to hold her right now..."

"She's at Garcia's for the night."

Emily raised a brow. Considering how reluctant Lucy had been to be parted from the baby for a night so recently, this seemed a surprising turn of events. "What? Why?"

"Because I don't want her to overhear the fight we're about to have," she said darkly.

"Fight?" she repeated, confused. She followed Lucy into the kitchen, watching as she slammed cupboards as she made tea. "Do you want to tell me what this fight is about or...?"

She whirled around. "How about you almost getting yourself blown up twice? Or the fact that I was almost a single mother today?" she demanded. "Or the fact that you almost left Clara without her Mommy? Thank _God_ she's not old enough to remember this..."

"I was doing my job, Lucy," she said placatingly.

"What about your _job_ as Clara's mother?" Lucy retorted. "Obviously you weren't thinking about her when you ran into the train station."

" _Not_ thinking about her?" she repeated, incredulous. "That's _always_ what I'm thinking about! Everything I do, all I can think about is whether Clara is okay, whether I'll live to see her again – every _fucking_ moment I'm on the job, I'm _terrified_ because one stray bullet and she'll have to grow up without me!"

Eyes blazing, Lucy demanded, "Then what the fuck were you doing?"

Emily was struggling to keep her temper even, understanding why Lucy was upset and yet... "I was saving another child's father."

She huffed. "That's not good enough!"

"What do you want me to say?" Emily asked, throwing her hands up as if in surrender. "Did you want me to let him die?"

" _Don't_ make me out to be the bad guy here," Lucy growled. "And don't act like there wasn't another agent there who could've helped him."

Emily scrubbed a hand through her hair restlessly. "Okay, well, it's not like I can change what happened, so can we let this go?"

"No, Emily! I'm really upset! I can't just forget that I almost lost you today..."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she was silent for a few moments, internally debating what to say next. She shrugged emptily. "You didn't, though."

"You're making this seem like a smaller issue than it is!" Lucy cried. "You're making me seem crazy!"

"I never said that, Lucy," Emily insisted, trying not to roll her eyes, lest she really irritate her. "I understand why you're upset, but it's _over_."

Lucy heaved a sigh. "We're just going in circles, I can't do this anymore."

Emily raised a brow. "So, what now?"

She pursed her lips in thought, then shook her head. "I don't want to sleep beside you angry."

"Fine. I'll spend the night on the couch," she huffed. "I love you."

"I love you too," she grumbled without looking at her.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Lucy was shaken awake. Confused and alarmed, she sat bolt upright. "Emily?" she asked once she'd blinked the sleep from her eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I have a job offer," she said urgently.

"What?" she rubbed her eyes.

"A job offer," she repeated. "In London."

She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again as if hoping this were a dream. "What?"

Her eyes were wide, almost frenzied. "Do you want me to quit my job? Because I will. For you. For Clara."

"Emily, I don't understand..."

She sat next to Lucy, grabbed her hands and squeezed. "Clyde called me today and offered me the position of running the London field office at Interpol."

Suddenly, understanding seemed to dawn. "You want to move to London?"

"If you want to," she said. "Remember how we walked about moving? Now we can – I'll have a normal job, almost no travel, be home for dinner at night... We can still have our baby and I won't have to miss anything."

Lucy stared deeply into her eyes as if trying to read something within them. "Is this really what you want?"

"Only if it's what _you_ want. Because you were right: I was stupid and reckless and probably a little crazy," she said in a rush. "I shouldn't have done it and I never want to be in that position again. Never want to choose between someone else's life and mine."

She nodded slowly, tongue flicking out over her lip. "Okay."

"Okay?" Emily repeated, breathless.

Lucy nodded, unable to help the smile that erupted across her lips. "Let's move to London," she agreed. Then, she swept Emily into a tight embrace, nuzzling into her neck and pressing a soft kiss there. Tugging gently, she lay back, bringing Emily down on top of her.

Their kisses quickly became heated and Emily's hand was on Lucy's breast when Lucy's phone rang.

Emily groaned dramatically, sitting up and grabbing the interrupting phone. She glanced at the screen and announced, "It's Garcia..."

Panic washed across Lucy's face clear as day. "Clara..." she whispered.

A quick conversation with Garcia, though, melted her concern into amusement. She put the phone on speaker so Emily could hear as well. "What does Sergio say?" Garcia's voice asked of Clara.

"M'OW!" Clara answered, then giggled, clapping her tiny hands together.

Lucy clapped a hand over her mouth. "That's right, Clara, that's what a kitty says."

"I'm telling you," Garcia said firmly, "This kid is going to put Reid to shame..."


	11. Chapter 11

Twinkle lights overhead sparkled in the dark of the evening. Laughter and amiable chatter accompanied soft strains of music spilling into the expansive yard that had been transformed into a dance floor. An air of contented happiness filled the space between friends turned to family.

"Do you remember our wedding?" Lucy murmured beside Emily's ear as they swayed to the music. All thoughts of the previous night's argument had long since been forgotten.

Emily smiled tenderly, leaned in for a kiss. "Best day of my life," she replied, pulling back just enough to nuzzle her cheek.

"I still can't believe you tricked me like that," she said, playfully pretend frown on her lips.

"Well, someone had to do it or we never would've gotten married," she teased, though it was, in fact, a true statement.

Lucy pouted. "Well, it was hard to schedule anything around your schedule..." Emily raised a brow. "And my constant dance performances," Lucy relented.

Emily couldn't help but laugh softly. "I would've waited a lifetime for you," she vowed, "But I did have to take charge so you'd make an honest woman out of me."

"Honest?" she teased.

Rolling her eyes, Emily reminded her, "Hey, be nice if you want to get laid tonight."

_Emily and Lucy had been discussing marriage more or less since a week into their relationship – though they'd waited a full year before making it official and getting engaged. Emily had never really been able to see herself settling down and getting married – partly because watching her parents' relationship implode had kind of soured her on the idea of marriage and partly because she never imagined she'd find someone who she felt completely safe with, someone with whom she could let down her walls and still be loved. Lucy had changed all that._

_Marriage, though, didn't happen quite as quickly or as easily._

_Not out of any reluctance to be married, but rather a messy scheduling situation. Between Emily's case load and Lucy's abundance of performances and summer intensives, they rarely had enough time to_ plan _a wedding, let along actually_ have _the ceremony..._

_Until Emily took matters into her own hands._

" _Hey, where are you?" Lucy asked. She had her phone squeezed between her ear and her shoulder as she dug in her purse. "You're coming to my photoshoot, right?"_

_Her agent had called to schedule a photoshoot for a bridal fashion magazine, modelling ballet inspired wedding gowns and Emily had promised to show up and give her opinion on which ones she liked best (considering this was the closest she'd gotten to physically shopping for wedding dresses)._

" _I'm on my way," she promised, "Where are you?"_

" _About to walk into the dressing..." She trailed off as she pushed the door open._

_Emily's smile was practically audible over the phone. "Something wrong?"_

_In the dressing room, there was one wedding gown – the one she'd been not-so-silently mooning over for months since she saw it on one of those cheesy TV wedding dress shows – and a hair and make up artist._

" _What's going on?" she asked._

" _We're getting married today," Emily announced._

_A long silence as if in anticipation of a punchline. "Really?"_

_Emily laughed. "Get your beautiful behind in that wedding dress and marry me."_

Lucy cocked her head, smiling tenderly at her wife. She opened her mouth to comment, but faltered as she watched Emily's eyes suddenly turn sad. "Have you told them you're leaving yet?" she asked, even though she could already read the answer.

Emily sighed, attempted a smile. "No," she whispered. "But I will. I just... I don't want to ruin JJ's special night."

Tongue flicking out over her lip, she said gently, "We don't have to do this – we can stay and..."

"No," Emily interrupted, urgent. "I want to do this. I'd be crazy not to do this, for our family. I just... I'm going to miss them."

"I know," she agreed. "They've been your family for so long – I can't imagine how it must feel to leave that all behind." She glanced away from the intensity of Emily's stare, blinking quickly as tears burned behind her eyes. As much as she loved the team, part of her had always felt like she could never quite live up to them in Emily's heart...

Emily tipped Lucy's chin up to meet her gaze. " _You're_ my family. You and Clara are what matters."

Lucy smiled softly, albeit a little watery. "I'm not asking you to choose..."

"I know. But I also know they'll understand that this is something I have to do," Emily insisted. "They'll want me to be happy and healthy and _whole_ and this is going to do that for me."

Blinking back tears, Lucy whispered, "You're the best wife anyone could ask for, you know that, right? I mean, what you're giving up..."

She shook her head. "I'm not giving up anything. I'm gaining more time to watch my family grow."

Lucy gave a wet little laugh. "You are _so_ getting laid tonight."

Emily waggled her brows. "I always score at weddings."

Lucy snorted with laughter. "How many weddings _have_ you been to exactly?"

"About..." She made a dramatic show of mentally calculating. "Two."

"Including our own?"

She nodded.

At that moment, Garcia came dancing over with Clara in her arms. "Maaaaaa!" the baby squealed, extending her arms towards Emily.

"Hello, darling," Emily cooed, picking up the girl. "Enjoying the party?"

"She's a little party animal," Garcia said with a laugh.

Lucy gave her a pointed look. "You gave her a cupcake, didn't you?"

She managed to look at least a little guilty. "Just a little one..."

Emily just laughed, shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she assured Garcia. "It's not like we've never given her cake before."

Lucy's brows arched up her forehead. "You have?"

Shrinking in on herself, Emily lied, "No..."

Smirking Garcia backed away. "Good luck, Em... I'll miss you while you're in the doghouse."

"You say no to this face..." Emily justified, kissing Clara's chubby cheeks until she giggled.

Lucy just shook her head fondly.


	12. Chapter 12

"Clara, come back here," Lucy called after the baby who screeched and ran (as best she could on chubby baby legs) in the opposite direction. "You need to get a diaper on!" She had started to get into the stage of struggling against the diaper change process, but wasn't quite ready to be potty-trained, making life quite interesting, to say the least...

"Having trouble?" Emily called from the living room where she was unpacking boxes. "Need me to help corral the troublemaker?"

A squeal.

"No," Lucy called back, snatching the baby up before she could escape into the hallway. "I got her. There's probably not pee anywhere..."

Emily just laughed to herself, shaking her head fondly. She was about to come to Lucy's rescue and help restrain the baby as she diapered her, when there was a knock on the door. This was particularly surprising, considering they didn't know anyone in London yet...and Garcia had promised to wait at least a week before visiting.

Pulling the door open, Emily was surprised to find Clyde standing on the other side, leaning against the doorway with his usual cocky smirk. "What are you doing here?" she asked, a little rudely.

"Nice to see you too, darling," he replied, arching a brow. "I came to help you unpack."

"Why?"

"Because that's what people do when..." He trailed off, gaze drifting away from Emily into the apartment. For several moments, his jaw hung open slightly as if his very brain had left his body.

Emily turned to see what had attracted his attention, then frowned.

Lucy had emerged into the living room with Clara balanced on her hip. What had so thoroughly distracted Clyde, though, was the fact that Lucy was dressed in a sports bra and a tiny pair of spandex shorts... Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and loose strands were plastered to her sweat-slicked forehead. She looked like something right out of a sportswear ad.

She didn't ordinarily dress like that, but the previous evening, the building's boiler had blown and the flat was consequently about seven thousand degrees, making any clothing beyond that nearly unbearable.

Emily cleared her throat deliberately to regain Clyde's attention, staring daggers at him. "Clyde, this is Lucy," she introduced, "My _wife_."

Lucy approached, offering a smile – apparently not having noticed his staring – and shook his hand. "The infamous Clyde Easter," she greeted, "It's a pleasure." She gestured for him to come inside.

He just smirked as he stepped into the apartment, his face immediately falling as he felt the heat. "It's like a sauna in here..." he complained.

"The boiler's broken," Emily said. "Feel free to leave, though." Under her breath, she added, "And feel free to stop ogling my wife."

Apparently choosing to ignore her, Clyde shrugged off his leather jacket. "And this must be Clara," he said as Lucy set the baby down on the floor so she could toddle over and inspect the stranger. He knelt down to greet the child at her eye level...but Clara was obviously not in the mood – she proceeded to burst into tears and turn to Emily, holding her arms out to be picked up.

Clyde looked rather taken aback by the reaction. "Was it something I said?"

Lucy apologized, "She's a little cranky because she didn't sleep well. Usually, she's much more charming."

Emily picked up the baby and bounced her in her arms, kissing her sweaty forehead. "She's probably due for a nap," she suggested to Lucy, "Why don't you put her to bed and I'll find some work for Clyde to do?" Once Lucy was out of earshot, Emily rounded on Clyde, "Put your eyes back in their sockets, Easter..."

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You haven't stopped staring at my wife since you got here."

"I wasn't _staring_!" he insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "You're a pig, you know that, right?"

He shrugged as if the matter were outside his control.

* * *

"It is a million fucking degrees in here," Lucy complained, wiping sweat from her brow. "I gave Clara a cold bath, but I'll be surprised if she sleeps very long, even with the fan going..."

"That makes two of us," Emily agreed.

Lucy nodded her agreement as she opened the window, though it didn't make much difference with the summer air. She rested her hands on the windowsill, staring out into the night, city lights blinking back at her.

She turned, leaned back against the wall, smiling at her wife. "Are you happy we're here?" she asked.

"I'd be happy anywhere with you," she replied.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I'm not sleeping with you tonight," she said on a scolding sigh. "It's too hot..."

Emily laughed. "You _wish_ I were coming on to you..."

She cocked her head. "I _wish_?" she repeated. "I could have you if I wanted you." She stuck out her tongue childishly. Then, as if to prove a point, she stripped off her pyjamas.

"What are you doing?"

"It's too hot for pyjamas," she replied.

"You're just doing this to prove a point," Emily said with a pout.

"I'm doing it because I'm getting heat stroke just standing here," she insisted.

Emily just shook her head and smiled. "Come here before Clara wakes up," she ordered, patting the bed next to her.

She slid into bed, snuggling up next to Emily, then kissed her.

"I set up the printer," Emily informed her after several moments of contented silence.

"Oh?" She looked up, raised a brow. "And you're telling me because?"

She passed her a sheet of paper, grinning proudly. "It allowed me to do this..."

Lucy scanned the sheet. "Is this...?"

"A list of the best OB/GYNs in London," she said merrily. "We're doing this. When you're ready, of course."

"We're having a baby?" Lucy whispered.

She nodded. "We're going to make a Clara a big sister."

Lucy kissed her soundly. But Clara interrupted the next moment by wailing in complaint at the heat.

"Perfect timing..." Emily noted.


	13. Chapter 13

Lucy was at the kitchen island, using it as a makeshift barre; faint strains of Disney piano soundtracks tinkled out from her nearby phone, accompanying her _rond de jamb en l'air_. Since their move to London, she'd been working to get herself back into her pre-baby shape, even if she wasn't planning on returning to the stage any time soon (having been an athlete the majority of her life, such an extended absence from the stage had seriously altered her body).

Clara was in her high chair nearby, attempting to feed herself a lunch of macaroni and tomato sauce. Although, _feed_ looked a lot like using the sauce as a face moisturizer... She spent more time watching Lucy, though, than she did eating.

"What's Mama doing, huh, Clara?" Emily asked the baby. She was supposed to be doing some paperwork for her new job at the kitchen table, but was so entranced by Clara's obvious adoration of Lucy that she really wasn't being all that productive.

"Mama's _rusty_ ," Lucy replied, even if the question hadn't been directed at her.

"She looks pretty good to me," Emily said with a shrug.

Lucy rolled her eyes, bringing her leg through _grand battement_. "You just say that because you want to get laid and you know I'm a sucker for a compliment about my dancing..."

She laughed, but cocked her head and fixed her with a look of pretend annoyance. "Can't I compliment you without you thinking I'm trying to get you into bed?"

"Apparently not. But you have to admit, you have some behavioural patterns on which to base the assumption," she teased. Her phone rang then, interrupting their playful banter. "Hello?" she answered, paused to listen. "Really? You're serious? Okay! When?"

She hung up the phone, squealed, did a comical little victory dance.

Emily raised a brow, giggling softly at her enthusiasm. "Who was that?"

Lucy clapped a hand to her mouth as if suddenly struggling to believe this moment was real. "That was the Royal Ballet..." she answered, wide-eyed. "They want me to audition!"

"Lucy, that's wonderful!" Emily cheered, sweeping her wife up a bone-crushing embrace. "I didn't know you'd been in contact..."

"I hadn't – they heard I'd moved and watched some of my past performances," she said. "They want to bring me in..." She trailed off, realization dawning on her. "...on the day we're supposed to meet the OB/GYN."

A beat. "Oh..." She settled back in her chair as if physically unable to stand on unsteady feet any longer.

Lucy chewed her lip for a moment, digesting the sudden twist of fate. "Well, I guess I'll have to call them up and tell them I can't do it," she said matter-of-factly, turning to grab her phone once again.

"But..."

She shook her head. "I can't do both. We decided a baby is what we want."

Emily cocked her head, watching her. "Lucy, this is your _dream_. I can't ask you to just give up on that."

"Em, we already had this conversation," Lucy said, shrugging as if the matter were outside either of their ability to control.

"That was before the Royal Ballet practically begged you to join them," she insisted. "You can't turn down an opportunity like this..."

"I've had a lifetime of opportunities in ballet. And I can always come back to teach or choreograph or whatever. But we do not have a lifetime to create a family," Lucy explained. "If we want this, then the sooner we do it, the better our chances are."

Emily still seemed unconvinced, though.

Lucy moved to settle in Emily's lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. "Trust me, okay? I've done a _lot_ of thinking on the matter. In fact, I've already started choreographing a new ballet..."

"Oh, really?" She raised a brow.

She smirked. "It may not be the next classic – it may never see the light of day – but it's the next evolution in my career." Emily opened her mouth as if to ask what exactly said evolution was, but Lucy interrupted, "But it's a surprise, so I can't tell you what it's about."

Pouting dramatically, Emily relented. "Well, as long as you're sure."

* * *

"Can I _please_ take off the blindfold?" Lucy begged as the car pulled to the curb and the engine turned off.

"Not yet," Emily said. "And by the way, you suck at being surprised."

Lucy rolled her eyes under the blindfold. "Can I at least have a hint?"

Emily kissed her cheek. "Nope," she said sweetly, then got out of the car.

Following her wife's gentle manhandling, Lucy cooperated until she was directed to stand in one place. Then, she whined, "Can I look _now_?"

Emily's hands were on her shoulders, her breath on her neck, then her lips pressed a soft kiss to the skin there. Finally, she untied the blindfold, letting the fabric fall way. "Voila..."

" _This_ is the big surprise?" Lucy asked skeptically. She turned to fix Emily with a dubious look. "A rundown old building?"

Emily just smiled enigmatically.

She cocked her head. "What are you up to?"

"I want you to have it all," Emily said, almost apropos of nothing. "You shouldn't have to give up your dream – not on your terms or anyone else's."

"Emily..." she started to argue.

"Just listen," she insisted. "If you don't like the idea, I promise to leave the matter alone for good."

Lucy sighed, nodded.

"This is your dance studio," she announced, then smiled her signature combination of hopeful and self-deprecating. "If you want it to be."

Her mouth hung open for a few moments, stunned. "Really?"

She shrugged. "I haven't officially put the offer in, but just say the word and I'll call the Realtor."

"But...how?" Lucy whispered.

She mimed zipping her lips, but grinned widely anyway.

Lucy flung herself into Emily's arms, embracing her tightly. "I don't know what I did to deserve you as a wife, but everyday I thank God that I did. I love you _so_ much."

Emily just laughed. "I got a pretty great wife out of the deal too."

"So, can we look inside? Does it have sprung floors? Is there lots of natural light?"

Laughing, Emily said, "I'll call the Realtor."


End file.
